


Plus One

by BrandonStrayne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Community: ThePen15isMightier, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne
Summary: Neville comes to realize that the best parts of his day all involve Dean.(Also, they have sex. A lot.)





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank two of my dependable beta readers who are always so generous with their time and help me buff these stories until they sparkle, [Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum) and [Drarryismymuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse). You two are the best pocket friends a person could ask for! <3

“How was the date?” Dean asked as Neville sank down beside him on the couch. “You’re home early. I figured you wouldn’t be dragging your arse home until sometime tomorrow.”

Neville rubbed his palms up and down his denim-clad thighs. “Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “Hannah and I have gone out five times now, but she wants to take it slow.”

“How slow?” Dean asked, kicking his bare feet up onto the coffee table and leaning back against the couch, head turned toward Neville.

“Glacial,” Neville replied. “Mind if I see what else is on?”

Dean shook his head and Neville grabbed the remote control from the coffee table before leaning back and mirroring Dean’s relaxed posture. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Neville flicked through the channels, searching for something to watch. Eventually, he came across a show with two scantily clad women wrestling in a small pool of what looked like milk.

They both turned their heads to look at one another and grinned appreciatively before Neville tossed the remote onto the coffee table and leaned back again. They watched the show, which appeared to be some sort of American game show, for a few minutes in companionable silence.

Dean caught a motion out of the side of his eye and he stole a covert glance over at Neville, whose fingers were tapping rapidly against his thigh. As he watched, Neville shifted his hands slightly, moving them further up his legs, his fingers tapping against the inside of his thighs. Dean’s eyes trailed up until they skimmed over Neville’s crotch, where he could see a bulge filling out the already taut denims.

Dean looked away quickly, feeling guilty. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had found his mind filled with fantasies about his roommate, but seeing how bloody fit Neville had become in the last few years, who could really blame him? Dean had long accepted that he was bisexual and he wasn’t ashamed that the idea of sucking a cock was just as apt to get him off as licking a pussy, but Neville had never given him any indication that he was interested in escalating their relationship to anything more than friends and flatmates.

Neville shifted beside him, his knee just barely grazing the outside of Dean’s leg as he spread his legs wider. Dean kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the flickering TV screen, the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room, and tried to ignore the slight motions to his left which, he was sure, was his roommate stroking his own erection through his trousers.

“You can…” Dean had begun speaking without even thinking and trailed off, embarrassed.

“What’s that, mate?” Neville asked in a low voice. The rhythmic movement of his hand had stilled as soon as Dean had spoken.

“I was just going to say that...you can...take care of it...you know...if you want?” he mumbled, his eyes darting to Neville’s crotch and then back straight ahead once more. He waited for Neville’s response, expecting him to be angry and storm off towards his room. He hadn’t meant to call him out, the words having escaped without any premeditated thought.

After a few awkward seconds that felt like forever, Neville huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

Dean felt his shoulder muscles relax, unaware they had tensed up, relieved that he hadn’t angered his friend. “Prat,” he accused, the corners of his lips pulling up in a small smile.

They sat there in silence once more as they watched a new segment, where two women in bikinis had to attempt to balance on a log while trying to knock the other competitor off and into the pool below using a long pole with two giant foam cylinders on the end.

Dean had almost forgotten the awkward moment when movement snagged his eye again and he realized that Neville had resumed the slow back and forth stroking of his prick. Dean bit his lips as his mouth flooded with saliva, the images on the TV proving drab compared to the image his mind was producing of him slipping to his knees between Neville’s spread legs and mouthing that thick bulge through the rough denim until the material was wet and clinging to every vein and ridge.

“Are you sure?” Dean shook himself at Neville’s softly voiced query.

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged, trying not to appear too eager. “Go for it. Doesn’t bother me.”

There was a protracted moment where neither of them moved and Dean felt as if they were teetering on a precipice, both aware that they were opening a door that couldn’t be closed here. He expected Neville to laugh it off or excuse himself with a joke that he would go take a cold shower, but instead, Neville’s other hand came up and popped the button on his denims. The sound of the zip sliding down seemed magnified and Dean would swear he could hear the grate of metal on metal as each tooth was released.

Dean sucked in a breath when Neville had finished opening his fly and he shuffled into a deeper slouch. His knee pressed more firmly against Dean’s leg as he spread his legs wider, giving him room to slide his hand under the elastic waistband of his pants and start stroking skin-on-skin. Neville let out a low moan and Dean could feel another rush of precome slip out of his cock, the dampness trickling down onto his groin, his cock pushing up towards his own waistband.

“It’s a little weird doing this alone,” Neville observed, his voice low and gritty.

Dean couldn’t believe what was happening right now. There was no way that Neville could possibly be hinting that Dean should join him in jerking off...could he? “Should I…?” he trailed off, not wanting to vocalize the absurd possibility.

“If you want…” Neville trailed off and Dean braved a look at him. Neville was watching the TV intently, but his head gradually turned towards Dean and they stared at each other for a pregnant moment. Dean felt a shot of pure lust rip through him when Neville’s eyes darted down towards Dean’s lap before he turned back to the safety of the big screen TV. “No pressure.”

Dean forced himself to move in slow, measured motions, even though all he wanted to do was rip down his own trousers and whip his hand over his straining cock until he came—it wouldn’t take long. He lowered his feet to the floor and spread his legs as wide as he could, the heat from where their legs pressed firmly against one another caused licks of arousal to skitter all over his skin.

With a flare of that patented Gryffindor bravery, Dean slipped his hands under the waistband of his pants, lifted his lower half off the couch, and pushed both them and his trousers down so that they rested just below his arse. His long cock caught on the elastic for a moment before springing free, bouncing back to leave a wet smack on his belly.

Neville quickly followed suit and, before Dean knew what was happening, there they were with their cocks out, tossing off together, two murmured Charms leaving their pricks slick and ready. Dean just barely managed to fight the urge to turn his head and watch his best mate stroking himself, far more interested in that than the strangers on the telly. He satisfied himself with quick glances, teasing glimpses of Neville’s rosy-tipped cock as it emerged from the tight grip of his fist.

Dean slowed his own attentions, wanting to stretch this out as long as possible. He slid his foreskin over the tip of his cock, ensconcing it in warmth until slowly sliding it back down, letting the wet tip meet the air again. Pressing his thumb into the wet slit, he rubbed the slick precome over his glans, eventually focusing on the sensitive stretch of skin where his foreskin was attached. Unable to control himself, he sucked in a harsh breath as he ground his teeth together and threw his head back.

He didn’t seem to be the only one steaming towards his orgasm though, and the sound of Neville’s groan was better than any of the porn he had stashed in an unassuming shoebox in his closet.

Finally, unable to deny himself anymore, Dean turned his head and his erection kicked when he found Neville looking at him. They sat there, staring into each other’s eyes for long moments, until breaking the contact and staring greedily at each other.

Dean licked his lips, wishing he could take Neville into his mouth to savour the salty taste that was all man on his tongue. As he was imagining that scenario, Neville’s hand picked up speed, flying over his thick length, and then, with a groaned “fuck”, he came. Thin streams of creamy seed sprayed out over the slightly round belly. Dean’s own hand sped up as he watched a droplet of the come roll slowly down the edge of Neville’s belly button, filling the tiny receptacle, practically begging for Dean to bend over and suck it up.

“Uggggghhhh,” Dean groaned as he finally let go, twisting his wrist and adding another sensation to his already ecstatic prick as he milked his body of all it had to offer. He could feel his come land as far up as his nipples as he dumped his load on his own chest, wishing it was Neville’s load splattering his dark skin with vivid white patches.

Finally, his cock’s nerve endings were screaming with oversensitivity so he let go of himself, letting the wasted flesh fall against his belly, nestled in the thick nest of curly, dark hair. He knew that he should probably clean up and not just sit here with his cock swinging in the wind, but he felt like he’d run a marathon, every muscle exhausted from strain.

Neville pushed up and resituated his pants and trousers around his waist and refastened the zip and buttons before standing up from the couch. Neville didn’t say anything, just circled around behind the couch towards his room. Dread had just started to settle in on Dean when Neville spoke, “Thanks, mate. Sleep well.”

Dean craned his neck around to look at Neville. “Anytime,” he said unthinkingly, not realising the implied invitation until it was too late to get the word back.

Neville grinned at him and waved before heading down the hall of their flat to his room.

 

*~*~*

 

Dean dumped the heaping grocery bags down on the counter in the kitchen and then proceeded to unpack them. He smiled to himself as he put the Cadbury Dairy Milk Caramel bar in the freezer; Neville insisted the candy bar was better frozen and that the only way to eat them was to suck on them, one square at a time, as it defrosted in your mouth.

“Is that you, Dean?” Neville called from the living room.

“Who else would it be?” he retorted as he closed the freezer door and headed out into the living room. “Is Hannah supposed to come over or some—Jesus what happened to you?”

Dean stopped short as he took in the scene in front of him. Neville was lying on his stomach on the floor in front of the couch wearing nothing but a pair of loose, grey joggers. His head was resting on his arms and a large ice pack was resting on his lower back, just above the round curves of his arse.

A pained moan came from the floor and Dean walked over, pushing the coffee table out of the way so he could kneel down beside him. “What happened to you?”

Neville turned his head to the side to look up at Dean. “I pulled something in my back today. I was moving some bags of fertilizer in the greenhouse and I must have twisted the wrong way or something.” Neville grimaced. “But hey, at least I got the rest of the day off work.”

Dean clucked his tongue. “I told you, you should just use magic to move those, you dolt.”

“But if I do it by hand then I don’t need to invest in a gym membership. I get all the weight lifting I need at work.” Neville chuckled and then sucked in a gasp of air through clenched teeth as his back seized.

“Would a backrub help?” Dean asked, trying to convince himself that his offer was rooted entirely in friendship and had nothing to do with the expanse of tanned skin stretched out before him which was practically magnetically drawing his hands to it.

“If you don’t mind, that would be great, yeah.” Neville agreed.

Dean contemplated for a moment before shuffling over and lifting one leg over Neville so that he was kneeling with Neville’s legs stretched out between his own. A flush of heat rushed up his neck at the suggestive position and he was grateful both for the dark colour of his skin, and that his best friend was looking away from him right at this moment.

He began kneading Neville’s back, softly at first, before pulling out his wand and summoning the bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. He dribbled a small amount in the palm of his hand and then rubbed his hands together, warming the oil up before lowering his hands back to Neville’s back and resuming the massage, his hands sliding much more easily now.

“I feel a bit like a turkey being basted,” Neville joked beneath him.

“Your breasts aren’t nearly big enough to be a turkey,” Dean jested back and Neville chuckled.

They lapsed into silence as Dean gradually increased the pressure he exerted on Neville’s back. He swirled his thumbs in circles, massaging the tense muscles under the sun-kissed skin until he felt the knots release and Neville’s tension melted into the floor beneath them. He thought maybe Neville had drifted off to sleep, but as his hands performed their own kind of magic on Neville’s lower back, just barely grazing the waistband of his joggers, Neville let out a low moan.

“Am I hurting you?” Dean asked, easing back on the pressure.

“Mmmmm, nooooo,” Neville murmured. “Feels great.”

Reassured, Dean resumed the massage, occasionally adding a few more drops of oil when his hands no longer glided over the skin of Neville’s lower back. When his hands went hunting for any leftover knots and came up blank, he leaned back and shuffled further down Neville’s legs. “Turn around. I know a stretch that’s good for lower back pain.”

“Oh...umm….” Neville hesitated.

“Come on. Over,” Dean ordered.

“Okay…” Neville muttered before pushing up onto his forearms and flipping around, his legs banging against the inside of Dean’s legs before he adjusted himself comfortably between Dean’s spread legs again.

It didn’t take Dean long to identify the source of Neville’s hesitation. The loose-fitting joggers did very little to hide the mouth-watering sight of Neville’s erection tenting the stretchy material, a spot of moisture darkening the pale grey material. Dean watched voraciously as the thick flesh jerked behind the confines of the soft material.

Clearing his throat, Dean pulled his attention away from the tempting sight and shuffled backwards. Tapping the outside of Neville’s thigh, he indicated that Neville should lift the leg. When Neville acquiesced to the request, Dean took Neville’s ankle in his hand and placed the flat of his foot against his own chest, toes pointing toward the ceiling.

“This stretch is really easy to do and will help stretch out those lower back muscles,” he explained. Shifting his knees forward, Dean gradually pushed Neville’s knee back towards his chest, holding when Neville’s face twisted in a look of discomfort. He held the pose for a few seconds before easing back and setting Neville’s leg down beside him. He tapped Neville’s other leg and he bent it at the knee. Dean placed the foot against his chest and repeated the stretch again, feeling the long, smooth muscle of Neville’s thigh through the threadbare material of the well-worn joggers.

“That feels loads better, mate,” Neville practically moaned as Dean set his other leg back down, leaving Dean kneeling between Neville’s spread legs. Neville’s erection had, if anything, grown, and Dean committed the shape, hugged by the material, to memory.

“My pleasure. Anything to...umm...help you...you know...relieve...tension.” Dean’s brain seemed to have shut down as he babbled away, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of that turgid flesh trapped under the constraints of the fabric.

Neville lifted his left arm up and bent it, propping his head up. His right landed on his bare chest, palm stroking down the soft lines of the six-pack that Neville had started developing, all of the manual labour in the greenhouses at Hogwarts starting to carve down his body into rigid lines and sharp muscles. Professor Sprout had taken Neville on as her protégé, having never had a student with a proclivity for Herbology that approached her own before, and in a few years, he would be ready to take over as Herbology professor when she retired.

“Anything?” Neville asked softly, the fingertips of his hand barely grazing his skin teasingly. “Any other tricks for relieving tension?”

Dean’s eyes were yanked away from the mouth-watering sight of that prick and straight to Neville’s. He watched his best friend, trying to determine if he was somehow misreading the mood that had settled in around them. Neville just stared back, fingers stroking the tantalising treasure trail originating at his belly button and disappearing under the waistband of those unwelcome joggers. “I...may have,” he equivocated.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Neville purred, his eyes drilling into Dean with intense interest.

Dean swallowed, his mouth having flooded with moisture at the thinly veiled offer. Without looking away from Neville’s eyes, intense like a roiling sea, Dean reached out and took that teasing hand in his own. Curling the other three fingers into a loose fist, Dean gave Neville time to back out before taking the long index finger into his mouth, letting his tongue curl around the rough pad of his finger.

Dean sealed his lips around the finger, hollowed his cheeks and sucked, giving Neville a preview of what he would like to do with another, thicker, part of Neville’s anatomy. Neville’s nostrils flared and he stroked the pad of his finger against Dean’s tongue, both men imagining what it would feel like if that clever tongue was wrapped around Neville’s prick instead.

Neville’s finger pulled free from Dean’s mouth with a sharp popping sound and there was a long, pregnant pause while they watched each other, waiting to see whether the other man would take the initiative to push them even further.

Neville didn’t speak, but without breaking their eye contact, he reached down and pulled on his joggers, lifting his hips off the floor to slide them over his arse and free his cock. Dean watched as Neville ran his thumb over his slit, rubbing the wetness pooling there around the flushed glans of his cock.

“Anything?” Dean asked, wanting to confirm that they were on the same page. He could hardly see how either of them could be misconstruing the intense sexual vibes that they were giving off, but it seemed equally unlikely that a fantasy that he’d indulged in countless times since he was 16 was coming true.

Neville nodded, biting down on his lower lip as he gave a not-so-subtle shift of his hips. Dean took a fortifying breath and then leaned forward to plant his hands on either side of Neville’s chest. Leaning down, he placed a soft, tentative graze of lips against Neville’s chest, hair tickling his lips.

When Neville didn’t stop him, Dean’s confidence grew and he worked his way over to Neville’s dusky nipple. A swell of satisfaction rose in him when the quick flick of his tongue was met with a quick inhale of breath from Neville. Not wanting to play favourites, Dean made sure to pay the same careful attention to the other nipple, which contracted and peaked under his ministrations.

Neville groaned beneath him and Dean started working his way down Neville’s chest, following the thinning trail of hair over the soft hills of Neville’s abdominal muscles. He could feel the dull prodding of Neville’s erection as it rubbed against his own chest, small spots of moisture freckled across the crisp, white cotton of his button-up shirt.

Dean ran the tip of his tongue around the edge of Neville’s belly button, the salty taste exploded across his tongue in the most delicious assortment of flavours.

“Mmm, that feels…” Neville’s whispered words trailed off into a pleasured moan that was as good as a symphony to Dean’s ears as he placed a row of kisses down the sensitive patch of skin at the junction of his hip and thigh.

Unable to prolong the tease anymore, he placed a single kiss to the head of Neville’s cock before pinning it back against his stomach, using his thumb to hold it captive and out of his way. Turning his attention to Neville’s testicles, Dean ran his tongue down and around the seam between them before taking each fruitful ball into his mouth. He could feel the rugous skin smoothing against his tongue as he pulled gently on the glands.

He remained alert to the slightest hint of discomfort from Neville, but none came. In fact, Neville reached down and ran his fingers through Dean’s coarse hair and around to the back of his head, holding his mouth in place. Neville’s close-trimmed fingernails scratched lightly at the back of Dean’s head as he continued his attention to Neville’s balls. He wanted to lift those out of the way as well, bend Neville in two, and run his tongue down over his best friend’s taint to tease his arsehole but he didn’t want to press his luck.

Once Neville’s balls were wet and covered in his saliva, he released his thumb and let Neville’s cock spring back up, eager and greedy for attention. He encircled his thumb and middle finger around the root of Neville’s balls and used them to pull the cock down and closer to his waiting mouth.

Neville’s stomach muscles clenched and Dean looked up to see Neville pull one of the throw pillows off of the couch and lodge it under his head, propping it up so that he could look down his body at Dean. While he watched, Dean pulled the cock down and placed an open-mouthed kiss over the end, a drop of pre-ejaculate smeared on his upper lip. He licked it off with a determined pass of the tongue and he wasn’t sure what was better: the tangy bite of Neville’s pre-come or the engrossed look on Neville’s face as he watched Dean savour his first taste of him.

Dean fervently hoped this wouldn’t be both the first and last taste he would get, but just in case, he decided to enjoy every moment of it. He nipped around the protruding edge of Neville’s glans, teeth shielded behind his lips so there was only sensation, devoid of pain. He dragged his tongue around the sensitive frenulum of the foreskin, which earned him a groan from Neville.

Dean took the flushed, red tip of Neville’s cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with a suction that caused Neville to flex his hips up, seeking more of the hot, wet engulfment of Dean’s mouth. Dean took his time, lowering his head slowly over Neville’s length. It wasn’t long before Neville’s prick was slick, coated in Dean’s saliva so that it slid unhindered past his lips. Finally, Dean managed to take all of Neville in, the soft tip poking down his throat and triggering his gag reflex until he pulled back. A thin strand of saliva was strung between Neville’s prick and his mouth and Dean couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the sight, of the filthy, persistent connection between them as he regained his breath.

He slid Neville’s foreskin up so that it encompassed the tip of his cock and then penetrated the protective skin with his tongue, licking along the inside, which tasted even more boldly of Neville. As his head descended and took Neville’s cock into his mouth once more, Neville’s garden-rough hands came up to rest on either side of his face. Neville didn’t grip him or hold him down, just trailed his fingertips over Dean’s distended jaw, thumbs tracing over Dean’s lips where they were wrapped around his cock.

Dean cast his eyes up under hooded eyelids as he eased down, watching Neville’s reaction for as long as he could before he was forced to look away, eyes trained on the thick mound of dark blonde curls at the base of Neville’s cock. Dean’s nose burrowed in and his head was filled with the intimate smell of Neville, which should be bottled and sold as an aphrodisiac if his own cock’s reaction to it was anything to go by.

He held the position for as long as he could, Neville’s gentle hands marvelling over his face until he had to withdraw once more. Mixing it up, Dean focused on tracing his tongue over the individual blood vessels which were bulging on the shaft.

“Merlin, Dean…” Neville’s blissed-out exclamation filled Dean with pride as he watched his friend creep up on becoming completely unravelled from nothing but Dean’s talented mouth.

Taking pity on him, Dean returned his focus to the tip, alternating deep sucks and swipes of his tongue while he relegated the task of stroking the shaft to his hand, the top of his fist meeting his own lips on each upstroke, between Neville’s foreskin and the ample slickness from his earlier work, his hand moved freely over the hard flesh.

Neville’s hand slid around to the back of his head, fingers curling and holding him close as he moaned, “I’m almost—ugh—almost there.”

Dean redoubled his efforts, digging his tongue into Neville’s slit as if he were able to scoop out the imminent release. Neville tried to pull his head away, but Dean pushed his hand away, unwilling to miss the climax after all of his hard work. Neville’s hand returned, no longer trying to push him away and, instead, pulling him closer as his body tensed and he came. Sharp, bitter come filled his mouth, coating his tongue, as Neville unspooled beneath him. Dean swallowed the load, maintaining the firm suction and slow pumping of his hand, milking Neville’s release as long as he could. When the twitching of Neville’s muscles started to slow down, Dean eased back, switching to long, flat-tongued licks, cleaning off any stray drops of Neville’s spunk.

Neville’s arms and legs collapsed to the floor, all motivation to move apparently having been sucked out of his body. Dean leaned back and wiped the excess saliva from around his mouth. His own cock was aching for attention, having been ignored for far too long, but now that Neville had come, he wasn’t sure where they were.

Dean was just thinking how to awkwardly excuse himself to wank off once, or ten times, in the shower when a lazy grin spread across Neville’s face and he opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. “That was amazing, but now I don’t think I can move. Do you think you can take care of yourself?”

“Umm, yeah. Of course. I’ll just—” Dean moved to stand up but before he could get his feet under him, Neville reached up a hand and grabbed his arm.

“You can do it here. You know...if you want,” Neville offered, his cheeks flushing with colour now that he had blood circulating to spare.

“Yeah...O-okay.” Dean sat up on his knees and started unbuckling the black, leather belt he was wearing. Neville watched him the whole time, the intense need was gone from his eyes, but what he saw there was far from indifference.

He unbuttoned his fly and zip with deliberate movements and then slid his hands in to lower both his trousers and pants, freeing his cock. He gave himself one or two strokes, but the friction was too much and he looked around until he found the discarded bottle of olive oil. He dribbled some into his hand before resuming his strokes. Looking away from his own prick, he watched Neville and Neville watched him, his eyes riveted to Dean’s cock.

Dean put both hands to work, twisting them in opposite directions and sending sparks of heavenly joy up his spine at the warring tugs on his sensitive skin. He watched as Neville reached down and stroked his own prick softly, without any real intention, as he watched Dean get himself off.

Dean could feel the creeping sensation start at the base of his spine, his orgasm darting away, just out of reach. His gaze watched Neville’s fingertips as they slid the foreskin up and down, the glans just barely peeking out of the top before disappearing again. His eyes trailed up Neville’s torso, taking in the faint ridges of his stomach—not quite a six-pack, but the pudgy baby fat of his youth was long gone.

The sharp peaks of Neville’s nipples were still flushed, the blood raised to the surface from Dean’s earlier attention and slow to return. Dean wanted to spend hours playing with them, learning just how much pressure—how much pain—would turn Neville frantic with want. He wanted to pinch them and suck them and make Neville’s cock leap in response. He removed one hand from his cock and trailed it up his own chest, giving his left nipple a sharp pinch which caused his hips to jerk, the other hand flying up and down his cock.

His eyes trailed up the curve of Neville’s neck, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He wanted to wrap his lips around that symbol of manhood and leave a mark, an obvious declaration that Neville was his.

As proprietary instincts swirled around his mind, Dean’s eyes moved up and scanned Neville’s face. Neville’s eyes travelled the matching route up Dean’s body as he watched until their eyes met, locked into each other. Dean was close, chasing after that vision of heaven, when Neville’s lips lifted into a sexy, shy smile and Dean was hurled through the pearly gates as his orgasm swept over him. He watched as if from another plane as thick spurts of come shot out of his cock and painted Neville’s skin.

As the final tremors shook him and he descended back into his body, Neville lifted his hand to his mouth and, not breaking eye contact, extended his tongue and licked away Dean’s seed. At the sight, Dean shuddered and another small dribble of come fell from his slit and landed in the intimate patch of curls.

Dean shifted his knees back and dropped down onto his hands, planting them on either side of Neville’s hips. He looked up at Neville, giving him time to object, but Neville just bit his bottom lip and watched with dilated pupils as Dean licked up every last drop. Dean’s eyebrows rose in intrigued surprise when Neville bent his leg and gave him better access to run his tongue up a stream of come that had slid down the side of one testicle.

After Neville was licked clean, Dean slid up his body, propping himself up so that their heads were only inches apart. They rested there statically for seconds that felt like minutes until Neville lifted his head, just a fraction, and Dean took the cue. Lowering himself, they met in a barely-there brush of lips.

A soft knock on the door tore through the surreal bubble they had been ensconced in and Dean jerked back. “Neville, let me in? I brought you some salve that should help your back.”

Dean and Neville exchanged guilty looks at the sound of Hannah’s voice and Dean scrambled off of him and helped Neville settle his clothes back in place before hastily redressing himself and hustling over to the door. With one final look back at Neville, who gave him a sheepish look, Dean pasted a rictus smile on his face and pulled open the door.

“Hannah, nice to see you.” He returned the kiss to both of her cheeks as they greeted each other. “I’ll just...uh...give you two some space.”

“No, stay,” Neville protested at the same time as Hannah’s, “Okay.” There was an awkward moment in which Hannah cast Neville a curious look before Dean excused himself, scurrying down the hallway towards his room and closing the door behind him. He cast a _Muffliato_ at the door to drown out the concerned cooing he could hear from the living room.

Dean threw himself onto his bed in a mid-air twist, landing on his back and throwing his arms behind his head. His ceiling was graced with a blinding smile as he closed his eyes and relived every second of the last twenty minutes, emblazing it in his memory.

 

*~*~*

 

“Shit! I’m so late!”

Dean rushed into the flat, slamming the door behind him and tossing his keys into the bowl they kept by the door for that purpose. He started stripping off his clothes, pulling his necktie just loose enough that he could slip it over his head before starting on the buttons.

As he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom they shared, he heard the rushing sound of the shower running. Groaning, he knocked on the door and shouted, “Are you going to be done soon? I need to take a quick shower.”

“WHAT?” Neville shouted back at him, unable to hear over the spray of the shower.

“Are you going to be done soon?” Dean called back, raising his voice as he undid his belt and let his trousers pool around his ankles.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU. JUST COME IN HERE!” Neville shouted back.

Dean turned the knob and found it unlocked. Leaving his trousers in the hall, he stepped into the bathroom wearing only his socks and briefs. The lack of fogging on the mirror suggested that Neville had not been in the shower for very long.

“How long are you going to be?” Dean asked as he grabbed his toothbrush from their rack and squeezed a small dab of toothpaste on the bristles before wetting it with a quick blast of water from the tap, careful to not leave the water running long enough to make Neville shriek in discomfort.

“I just got in here, mate!” Neville said. Dean watched the outline through the frosted glass as Neville dipped his head back, letting the water stream over his forehead.

Dean finished a quick brush of his teeth, extending his tongue and rubbing the coarse bristles over it, before spitting the frothy mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. He rinsed off the bristles under a small trickle of water from the tap, but apparently not small enough, because after about ten seconds Neville let out a sharp yelp and dashed to the far side of the shower, away from the water.

“Oi! What the hell?!” Neville screeched.

“Sorry!” Dean offered sheepishly. “I was just brushing my teeth.”

“And what was wrong with an _Aguamenti_?” Neville asked incredulously. Dean blushed. Truthfully, it hadn’t even occurred to him. Having been raised by a Muggle, Dean often failed to consider magical alternatives to basic Muggle conveniences. He brushed his teeth using the tap because it never even crossed his mind to use an _Aguamenti_.

Ignoring Neville’s question, Dean crossed the bathroom and stood beside the sliding glass door of the shower. “Don’t change the subject. When are you going to be done in there?” Dean startled back slightly when the door slid open and Neville, body slick with water, stood naked in front of him.

“Just come in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” Dean’s eyes were outside of his control as they roved down Neville’s body, following a particularly large patch of suds as they meandered their way down Neville’s chest and over his thigh.

“I don’t know…” Dean hesitated. He _did_ want to join him. Obviously, he did. He was just a little thrown off by Neville’s brazen invitation. It’s wasn’t as if they hadn’t done...stuff before. It’s just always felt more...furtive.

Neville’s face contracted in a look of uncertainty, but then he glanced down and took note of the very obvious sign that Dean was definitely interested in the proposition, and it relaxed. Before Dean knew what was happening, a devilish grin that Dean had never seen on Neville’s face before bloomed and then he reached out and slipped his hands into the front of Dean’s briefs, under the elastic, and pulled him into the shower.

Dean stumbled over the lip of the shower and tripped in, ending up pressed against Neville, who ended up leaning against the shower tiles, his other hand wrapped around Dean’s waist.

“What the hell?!” Dean protested meekly, laughing at Neville’s surprising move. “I’ve still got clothes on!” The thin cotton of his briefs was starting to cling to his arse, where the spray of the shower was beginning to soak them through. His socks were already a soggy mess. He was having trouble caring about either of them.

“Mmmm, well that was silly of you,” Neville mumbled, mouth buried against Dean’s neck. Pushing off of the wall, Neville reached behind Dean and slid the shower door closed before turning them around and backing Dean into the shower until the spray reached his shoulders. Neville dropped down onto his knees and began removing Dean’s sopping wet socks. “These don’t belong in here.”

He tossed one sock carelessly over his shoulder to the far end of the shower before turning his attention to the other one. When both of his socks were removed, Dean sucked in a breath: all that was left was his briefs. In the sexual encounters they’d had so far, Neville had never actually touched Dean’s cock. He’d seen it plenty, but Dean had always been the “giver.” He was okay with that since he had experience with both women and men and was comfortable sucking another man. But he knew for a fact that Neville had never done anything like this with another man before, so it only seemed natural that Neville would be in the position that was familiar to him.

That didn’t mean that Dean hadn’t thought about what it would be like to have Neville take him into his mouth...about a million times.

Neville ran his hands up Dean’s legs, over the slopes of his calves and across the sensitive skin at the back of his knees. His hands continued up and up, until they came to rest on Dean’s hips, fingers sprawled over Dean’s arse cheeks. Dean sucked in a deep breath and held it, waiting to see what Neville would do next—how far he would take this.

Neville’s fingers tightened and he pulled Dean forward a bit, meeting him midway, placing a kiss on Dean’s flat stomach just below his belly button. Neville followed the dark trail of hair down until it disappeared below the elastic band of the briefs, at which point he ran the tip of his nose around the boundary where Dean’s skin met the fabric.

“Nev, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Dean offered Neville the out, concerned that he was having second thoughts now that he was down on his knees. Neville didn’t say anything, he just dropped his head back and looked up at Dean and licked his lips sinfully as he slid his fingers between the elastic and Dean’s skin and slid the drenched material down his legs. Soft pressure from Neville’s hands had Dean lifting one foot at a time until the material slid free, to be discarded at the far end of the shower with the socks.

Neville watched his own hands as they smoothed over the wet skin of Dean’s thighs, the softly freckled pale hands standing out in contrast with the dark mocha of Dean. Neville’s hands continued their journey, fingers spread wide over Dean’s mound, stroking through the thick curls.

With only a hint of hesitation, Neville slid his hand around Dean’s length and stroked towards the tip, letting the soft foreskin slip over the end. Leaning forward, he wrapped his lips around the bunched skin, squeezing it between his lips. Dean sucked in a breath at the sensation, the teasing touch on the sensitive skin too much and not nearly enough at the same time. He wanted to thrust forward, to feel his cock slip past those pretty pink lips, to feel them wrap around and suck. The shower stall was steamy now, the hot water pouring down his back and over his shoulders, but he knew that the heat of the shower would be like a freezing ocean current compared to the waiting inferno of Neville’s mouth.

As Dean watched, transfixed by the sight, Neville slid his hand down, the rounded tip of Neville’s tongue poked its way inside, probing the inside of his foreskin and circling around the head of Dean’s cock. Dean couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he threw his hands out to brace against the tiles and glass. Dean wasn’t sure whether Neville was just insanely good at this, or whether it was just the fact that it was Neville, but Dean wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“Neville...you’re killing me.”

Neville didn’t stop what he was doing, just cast his eyes up in the sexiest look Dean had ever seen and blinked innocently as the corners of his mouth lifted. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. Dean’s cock gave a spasmodic jerk and a spot of pre-come was left on Neville’s upper lip, which he licked away with a decisive swipe of his blush tongue.

Dean cast about for anything to keep his orgasm at bay, eventually settling on mentally listing the fifty-seven ingredients in Tuttle’s Tonic, the most finicky of the Healing Potions that he’s had to learn during his residency at St Mungo’s.

_One finely diced bat wing_ , he thought as Neville circled his tongue around the ridge of his glans.

_The down feathers from three Jobberknolls,_ distracted him from the maddening sensation of Neville poking his tongue into Dean’s slit.

_Five Flitterby moth wings, coarsely chopped._ Neville followed the trail of one of Dean’s prominent veins down to the base before continuing his journey and taking one of Dean’s full-to-bursting testicles in his mouth.

_Two whole polypody leaves_. Neville nipped with his lips as he meandered back up to the head of Dean’s cock.

All capability for structured thought escaped Dean as Neville wrapped his lips around Dean’s girth and sank down, taking him deep into the back of his throat. And immediately started coughing.

Dean suppressed his laughter as Neville pulled back, coughing. After he got his gag reflex under control, he cast a sheepish look up at Dean. “Sorry about that. This is harder than you made it look.”

Dean dropped his hand and stroked his thumb over Neville’s cheek, which was coloured an adorable shade of pink. Grinning, he replied, “Harder is generally a good thing in this situation.”

Neville’s self-consciousness melted away as Dean watched him. Dean wasn’t sure what exactly they would be defined as right now, but underneath it all, they were still best friends. Neville reached up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, stroking the straining length a few times before grinning up at Dean. “Definitely no complaints from down here.”

“Just take your time.” Dean started to pull his hand away from Neville’s head, but the other man wrapped his hand around his wrist, halting the movement. Dean reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the back of Neville’s head instead. He watched, entranced, as he pulled Neville closer and his lips parted to take Dean back into his mouth.

They spent the next few minutes in a slow, steady swelling of pleasure. Dean guided Neville’s head forward and then back, dragging out the unbelievably sweet sensations. Gradually, Neville’s confidence grew and before long he was pushing further on each advance, taking Dean further into the back of his throat each time. The soft downward curve of Dean’s cock lent itself perfectly to Neville’s mouth, slipping down past his tonsils as if they were formed from two matching moulds.

Dean held Neville’s face close, euphoric with the tight squeezing sensation as Neville swallowed around him. When Neville pulled back, short of air, Dean released his hold and marvelled at the feel of his cock slipping over Neville’s tongue. Neville opened his mouth wide, letting the dark tip rest on the pale pink surface. Dean took hold of his cock and patted it against that delectable tongue once, twice, three times.

“Fuck me, that’s beautiful,” Dean groaned at the sight.

Neville opened his eyes, drunk with lust as he looked up at Dean and closed his lips around the glans, sucking on it as if it were a popsicle. Neville reached up and stroked his hands over Dean’s thighs and around until they were spread over his arse. Dean’s hips shifted forward as Neville pulled him in closer before loosening his hold, letting Dean retreat.

Dean didn’t need an engraved invitation. Taking hold of Neville’s head, Dean began to fuck his mouth, his hips swinging forward and back in an increasing tempo as he began to creep closer to orgasm. Neville reached down and began stroking his own dick, which was erect and demanding attention. His strokes increased in speed and intensity, along with Dean’s, and in no time at all he was coming, thick stripes of seed immediately washed away by the pounding water of the shower.

Neville’s strangled groan sent vibrations tickling up his shaft and his orgasm snuck up and tackled him from behind. He held Neville’s head tightly as his release painted the walls of Neville’s mouth. Now that the blood was returning to his brain, Dean experienced a feeling of guilt that he hadn’t provided Neville with a chance to pull away before he came. His guilt was quickly assuaged when Neville made a show of swallowing the mouthful of come before letting Dean’s deflating prick slip free.

Leaning back, Neville grinned up at him. “Help me up, would you? My knees are killing me!”

Dean offered a hand and helped pull Neville up from the shower floor. Before things could get awkward, Neville wrapped his hands around Dean’s waist and pulled him close, their naked bodies making contact along the entire length of their bodies. The fingers of one of Neville’s hands trailed teasingly over the seam of Dean’s arse as their foreheads drew together, lips mere centimetres apart.

“How did I do then?” Neville whispered in the heated air between them.

“A solid A for effort,” Dean said, only managing to keep a straight face for a few seconds before a dopey grin pulled at his mouth.

“Get off it!” Neville accused, playfully pinching one of Dean’s arse cheeks and eliciting a squeak of protest from the other man. “That was bloody stellar for my first time! Admit it!”

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Dean agreed, holding back the information that, hardly from being just ‘good for a first time’, that may be one of the best blow jobs he’d ever received. And that’s saying something because Ginny had been quite amazing at them (when he’d asked her about it, she’d explained that with 6 older brothers, she’d had a steady stream of porn stashes to learn a few tricks from.)

Dean was just about to pull away when Neville moved in and placed their lips together in a barely-there kiss. Neither of them pressed in for more, they just stood there grazing their lips against one another and exchanging warm puffs of air. Dean felt light-headed enough that he thought he would perhaps float away if Neville’s strong arms weren’t wrapped firmly around him.

Too soon, Neville pulled back and his arms slid back until his hands were rested on Dean’s hips, giving him the leverage to switch their positions and place himself under the showerhead. Grabbing the shampoo bottle from the shelf, Neville worked up a thick lather in his hair while Dean rubbed their bar of soap over his chest.

“So I’m not seeing Hannah anymore,” Neville mentioned casually as he tipped his head back to rinse away the shampoo. Contrary to the casual way Neville delivered the news, Dean’s head shot up and the soap bar shot out of his hand and into the air. He scrambled to try and catch it, but it clattered loudly to the floor of the shower.

“You dropped the soap.” An amused grin pulled at the corner of Neville’s lips.

“What do you mean you’re not seeing Hannah anymore?” Dean asked, cringing at the desperate hope that seemed to permeate every word.

Neville began conditioning as he answered, “It wasn’t really working. It’s not like we ever really got that serious, I mean we were still dating other people, and I just didn’t see us going anywhere.”

Dean knew that Neville and Hannah had never been exclusive. He consoled himself that what he and Neville were doing was never cheating because Neville and Hannah had never agreed to be monogamous. Still, the whole situation had never _quite_ sat right with Dean. He knew about Hannah, but he was never sure whether Hannah had known about him, and that had given the whole thing an illicit feel.

“Huh. Sorry to hear that, mate,” Dean offered, at a loss of what to say.

“It’s fine. Here,” Neville squatted down and grabbed the bar of soap from where it had come to rest near the drain, “you wash my back and then I’ll do yours.”

Dean took the proffered soap and then took a deep breath as Neville turned around to face the shower. With slightly shaking hands, Dean reached out and began running the soap over Neville’s broad shoulders. Now that Neville was apparently unattached, what had seemed like casual, fun sex felt like it suddenly had more potential significance.

Dean worked his way down Neville’s body rubbing the suds over every inch of skin. Not wanting to push too far, he settled for a perfunctory cleaning of Neville’s arse, keeping a safe distance from the tempting slope of his crease, before dropping down and washing each of his legs, the pale hair hardly visible against his pale skin.

Standing up, he handed Neville the bar and turned around. Neville did much the same for him, only with far more diligence paid towards Dean’s crease. Neville leaned forward, his hot breath washing over Dean’s back as his hands reached between them and the bar of soap was slid down between his arse cheeks and purposefully over the tight pucker of Dean’s anus. Dean sucked in a breath at the bold move paired with the prod of renewed interest he could feel on the back of his thigh.

Those plush lips had just met the tender skin at the nape of his neck when there were three sharp knocks on the door. “Dean, are you in there?”

Dean cast a look of fear at the door, desperately trying to remember if he’d cast a Locking Charm before he’d been dragged in here. “Yeah, uh....I’m here. Just...taking a shower! I’ll be out in about five minutes. Just make yourself comfortable in the living room.”

“Okay,” Hermione’s voice came through the door. “Hey, I’m kind of thirsty. Do you think Neville would mind if I drank one of those imported Butterbeers of his.”

Dean turned slightly and clapped his hand over Neville’s mouth before he could protest. “I’m sure he’d be fine with that, Hermione. Help yourself!”

He let his hand slowly drop away from Neville’s mouth and waited with bated breath for about ten seconds before he thought the coast was clear and Hermione had retreated towards the kitchen. Dean was tempted to throw his elbow back into Neville’s stomach as the other man let out a stifled snort into his neck. “I take it you have plans with Hermione?”

“Shit! I totally forgot that we were getting together to practice brewing our latest potion assignment! You distracted me!” Dean hissed as he manoeuvered them so that he was under the shower spray.

“Apparently I am _very_ good at distracting you,” Neville grinned, stepping closer before Dean held up a restraining hand to his chest.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Dean warned. “Now hurry up! We need to get out of here before the ‘brightest witch of our age’ figures out what we’re up to in here.”

 

*~*~*

 

Dean heard the rattling of keys in the lock and the accompanying uptick in his heartbeat. If he’d thought that pining after his best friend before was bad, it was nothing compared to how far gone he was for Neville now.

“Mmmm, something smells delicious in here,” Neville said as he walked into the kitchen and tossed their stack of mail onto the counter.

“I’m making us lasagna for dinner,” Dean explained, stirring the saucepan of Italian-spiced meat sauce.

Neville came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, his front plastered against Dean’s back. Neville ran his nose up along Dean’s neck and behind his ear. “Mmmm, nope. It’s you that smells good enough to eat.”

Dean dropped his head back against Neville’s shoulder wearing a dopey grin. “That is such a cheesy line.”

Neville bit lightly at Dean’s earlobe before running his tongue around the shell of Dean’s ear. “And it’s working on you, so what’s the problem?”

“Stop distracting me or our dinner will burn.” Dean pulled his head back up and returned his attention back to the sauce, which was just starting to boil. He turned the heat down on the burner and then began spooning the meat sauce into the deep lasagna pan. “So how was your day?”

Neville proceeded to tell him about his day, excitedly describing a new batch of Somnolent Sagebrush which required them to wear ventilator masks so they don’t breathe in the fine mist that the plants let off periodically which induces drowsiness that can last for up to three days.

“Oh hey, look at this.” Dean turned around to see Neville holding up an expensive-looking envelope with the address written in elegant calligraphy.

“What is it?” Dean asked as he squinted to try to make out the tiny script. The handwriting looked entirely unfamiliar.

Neville slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and ripped open the top. As he pulled out the thick cardstock, a shower of silver and gold glitter erupted out of the envelope and rained down over his head. Neville stood there stunned for a few seconds while Dean fought back laughter and, as they watched, the confetti disappeared.

“Thank Merlin we don’t have to clean that mess up. We would have been picking glitter out of our arse cracks for weeks!” Dean snorted at Neville’s words.

“What kind of a pretentious sod sends a glitter bomb in the mail?” Dean asked.

Neville looked up from reading the card and grinned at him. “I’ll give you one guess.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Dean guessed at the same time Neville nodded and said, “Draco Malfoy.”

“Looks like Harry’s decided to ignore all the warning signs and is going to make an honest man out of Draco.”

Despite Neville’s misgivings, he was happy for his friend. He would never see what Harry saw in Draco, but he did seem to make Harry happy. At least Draco had turned over a new leaf since they had been in school together. It was a pretty small leaf though...more of a common heather leaf than a banana leaf. Draco _had_ apologized to everyone after the war and he really was trying to be a better person, but he would always be a snarky person, and Neville had a suspicion that that was actually what Harry liked best about him. Unlike everyone else that treated Harry like he was a God walking among them, Draco was never afraid to cut him down a peg (or five). You’d have to be blind to miss the fiery look that ignited on Harry’s face when Draco was taking the piss out of him. And if you missed that, the fact that they would always excuse themselves from whatever event they were at and make a dash for the nearest Apparition spot, hands already starting to grope, was a sure-fire giveaway.

“No shit? Really?” Dean asked. “Well, good for them. I guess Harry finally got Draco to nail down a date.” The two men had been engaged for over two years and their friend group had just learned to stop asking when the wedding date was going to be set. Draco had insisted that the stars and planets needed to be properly aligned to be auspicious for them to exchange their vows. The Black family placed a lot of stock in astrology, hence their choice of names.

“There’s one here for you too.” Neville held up a matching fancy invitation that had Dean’s name scrawled across the front. “Looks like we both get a plus one…”

“Oh…” An awkward tension filled the room as Dean ran through the list of people that he could possibly invite and found all but one of the names lacking.

“Or...we could go together?” Neville proposed tentatively.

Dean studiously avoided looking at him and arranged the last layer of noodles in precise order. “Yeah, um...sure. We could do that. Like, as friends…?” Dean didn’t want to go as friends, but nobody knew that they were potentially anything more. Dean knew Neville’s body intimately now: he knew the sound of the gasp that Neville always let out when Dean pulled on his hair, he knew the tremor that washed over Neville when Dean pressed his thumbs into the Dimples of Venus at the base of his spine, and he knew the exact shade of pink that Neville’s cheeks would colour when Dean ran his tongue between Neville’s toes before sucking on the big one.

There was a long pause that felt like it was sucking all of the air out of the room and preventing Dean from breathing.

“We could go as friends,” Neville agreed and Dean discovered that five simple words were all it took to smash his heart to smithereens. In a Herculean feat of strength, Dean managed to cover the lasagna with tin foil, slide it into the oven, and set the timer without crumbling to a pile of dust on the floor.

There was a shuffling of papers behind him but Dean couldn’t look, his control over his outer facade threatening to slip away under the slightest provocation. Those hands that he loved slipped onto his hips, fingers curving around and exerting pressure, turning Dean around to face Neville. Dean kept his face down, not strong enough to meet Neville’s blue eyes, which were flecked with a darkness that made Dean think of an inverse night sky.

“I don’t want to go as friends though,” Neville said in a soft, tender voice. He placed one hand under Dean’s chin and gently forced it up, setting Dean adrift in the unbounded depths of Neville’s gaze. “I want you to be my plus one.”

Dean’s head was spinning and he tried to quell the surge of hope that was threatening to take root. “I don’t….what?” was all that he could manage.

“Or I can be your plus one. I’m not particularly fussed either way,” Neville smirked as he said it, but Neville had never had any particular strength at smirks and it quickly melted into a fond look.

“So...you want...what do you want, exactly?” Dean asked, dreading and dying to hear Neville’s answer in equal measure.

Neville’s eyes crinkled up in the corners with his smile. He was bound to get crow’s feet there when he got older and Dean knew it would be a beautiful thing to behold—a physical representation of Neville’s happy disposition.

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Neville’s hand dropped back to Dean’s hips and he stepped forward, trapping Dean between the tight space between Neville’s front and the oven. “I spend all day at work thinking about you and wondering what you’re doing.” Neville took Dean’s mouth in a soft, close-mouthed kiss. “One of my favourite parts of the day is coming home and talking about our days.” He tilted his head and placed another lingering kiss on Dean’s lips. “And I have the most mind-blowingly good orgasms when we’re together.” This kiss was not nearly as pure, Neville’s tongue sunk entrance past Dean’s lips, which happily parted with a sigh to grant it.

Their tongues danced together for a long minute before Neville slowly pulled away. Dean eventually managed to pry his eyes open and he licked his lips before speaking, “All good points. So what does this mean?”

“Well, seeing as all the best parts of my day involve you, I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, make this thing official.” Neville’s nervousness peeked out from under his playful demeanour and he bit his lower lip as he waited for Dean’s answer.

Dean felt ebullient, all of his concerns from only moments ago feeling as if they were an era ago. Dean wrapped one arm around Neville’s neck and lifted the other up to run his index finger along Neville’s lip, tugging it free from the dull edge of his tooth. “So, ‘plus one’, what are we going to wear to this wedding? We’ll probably need to get new suits because Draco will never tolerate someone wearing anything but the newest fash—”

Neville cut him off as he crashed their mouths together, taking Dean’s mouth in a deep, probing, claiming kiss. They crashed their way out of the kitchen and down the hall, taking turns pressing the other man up against the nearest firm surface. Hands tore at clothes, leaving a trail of sartorial bread crumbs towards the first bedroom they came to, which happened to be Dean’s.

The back of Dean’s knees hit the edge of his mattress and he collapsed backwards, looking up at his lover and best friend and, now, boyfriend, as Neville eyed him as if he was a steak he was preparing to devour. Or, because this was Neville, like some mysterious new plant species whose mysteries were just waiting to be unravelled.

Neville reached down and shucked Dean free of his trousers, pants and socks before shedding his own. Once they were both naked, he kneeled down on the bed between Dean’s spread legs and followed him up the bed as Dean pushed himself back until they were in the middle. Neville lowered himself on top of Dean, frotting against him as they exchanged urgent kisses and groans.

Dean chased after Neville’s mouth as the other man pulled back, going up onto all fours and then looking down at Dean with an intense, unreadable look on his face. Dean was just about to ask why they had stopped when Neville shifted and dropped himself down onto the bed beside Dean. He watched in confusion, his dick mourning the loss of Neville’s heat and pressure, as Neville turned onto his side, his back to Dean. He had a moment to think that he’d somehow offended Neville—though how he could have possibly done that when Neville’s mouth had been fused to his own was beyond him—when the other man reached back and took hold of Dean’s hand, pulling him so that Dean’s front was pressed against Neville’s back, his cock slipping between the crease of Neville’s arse as if it was meant to be there.

Any lingering doubt of what Neville was suggesting fled as Neville propped one knee up, parting himself and rolling more firmly onto his front, pulling Dean on top of him. They’d had anal sex several times now, but Neville had always been on top. Dean didn’t mind, really; he loved feeling the push and pull of Neville filling him up, the head of his cock pressing against his prostate on each firm thrust. If Neville was handing out prostate orgasms, Dean would gladly take them without complaint.

He couldn’t deny that he was burning with curiosity about what Neville’s silky-smooth inner walls would feel like as they hugged his cock. His cock gave a jerk of excitement at the mere idea, a small drop of pre-come dripping out and making contact with the smooth curve of Neville’s crack, the thin, sticky string connecting their flesh in the most tentative of connections.

“Is this….do you..?” Dean stammered out, mind shorting out as he gave a thrust of his hips, the thick curves of Neville’s arse stroking against his cock.

Neville craned his head and glanced back over his shoulder at him. “Do you need an engraved invitation? I can owl Draco and ask who they got to do theirs?”

Dean let out an amused snort and shot forward, taking Neville’s mouth in a kiss before reaching over and taking a bottle of lube out of his bedside drawer. “Just tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he told Neville as he spread the slick over his fingers before trailing them down the fuzzy crease of Neville’s ass and circling the wrinkled rim of his arse.

Neville didn’t say anything, but just nodded and hitched his leg a little higher, opening himself up more for Dean’s slithery digits. Dean took his time, opening Neville up slowly and patiently, ignoring the insistent urgings of his cock. He wanted to make this good for Neville and was willing to stay here all night if it meant making this a night that Neville would never forget.

“I’m stretched enough. I want you to fuck me now,” Neville begged as he curved his lower back and thrust is arse up, his body begging just as effectively as his mouth was.

“Remember, if it’s too much, just tell me to stop,” Dean reminded him one more time before sitting up on his knees and slicking up his cock. He rubbed his glans down between the cheeks of Neville’s arse until it was lined up with Neville’s slick hole. Taking a deep breath, Dean leaned forward and began pushing in, the tight squeeze of Neville’s rim giving way and letting Dean enter the plush passage of his rectum.

Neville groaned beneath him and Dean stopped, just barely inside. “Are you okay?” he managed to ask through gritted teeth, every instinct in his body screaming at him to plunge in until he was buried deep, except for the loudest one, which was concerned for Neville’s wellbeing.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute. Your cock is just way thicker than your fingers were,” Neville said in a strained voice as he took short, panting breaths and dealt with the novel stretching sensation.

Dean did as asked, holding still with his glans resting just past the tight sphincter, and petted Neville, running his hands over every inch of skin he could reach. He ran his thumbs down the inside curve of Neville’s cheeks, carefully pulling them apart so he could see the place where their bodies met, his cock giving an involuntary jerk at the sight.

“Okay, keep going just, go slow, yeah?” Neville closed his eyes and licked his lips as he waited for Dean to continue his progress into Neville’s body.

Dean ran his hands up and braced them at the top of Neville’s bum, rotating his thumbs in those delectable dimples and smirking at the jerk that went through Neville’s body, pushing his arse back further onto Dean’s cock. Dean made slow progress, pushing into Neville’s body centimetre by centimetre as Neville took panting breaths beneath him until, finally, Dean was buried deep, his testicles coming to rest against Neville’s own.

Dropping down onto Neville’s back, Dean fused their bodies together, trying to memorise the feeling of Neville’s snug warmth swallowing up his cock. Dean didn’t thrust for a while, just peppered kisses along Neville’s neck and shoulder until Neville began squirming beneath him, thrusting his arse up and forward, fucking himself on Dean’s thick plug of a prick.

Their bodies started an intense, intimate grind against one another and Dean knew that this first time would be over far sooner than he would like. Wanting to make sure that Neville came first, Dean reached down and slid his hand under Neville’s cocked hip, just enough room to take hold of Neville’s cock and stroke it.

Neville let out a sound that was closer to an animalistic growl than words and dragged his leg in, giving Dean more room to work his hand over Neville’s hard length. Encouraged, Dean sped up the jerks of his hand as he swayed back and forth, using the bounciness of the bed to rock in and out of Neville. It was only an inch or so, but it was enough to almost drive him insane.

Dean shifted slightly and, judging by the garbled moan and the almighty jerk of the cock in his hand, his cock skimmed over the sensitive bundle of nerves of Neville’s prostate. Neville thrust his hips back and forth, riding the dual sensations of Dean’s hand and cock until he stuttered and a gush of hot wetness washed over Dean’s hand as Neville orgasmed. Neville’s convulsions of pleasure squeezed down on Dean’s cock and he came with a gasp, burying his seed deep inside Neville’s arse.

Dean collapsed onto Neville, waiting as his cock let out the last panting jerks of his release, before carefully easing himself out of Neville’s arse and massaging the puffy rim with his thumb.

“Wow,” Neville said, panting slightly as he came down from the high. He lowered his stiff leg and turned his head to face Dean, bringing his arms up to rest his head on.

“Yeah, wow,” Dean agreed, taking deep breaths and already missing the tight heat of Neville’s arse as the cool air of the room met his cock.

“Greedy bugger. You never told me how amazing it feels to have a cock up your arse,” Neville laughed.

Dean smirked. “It can be pretty great, with the right person.”

Neville pushed up onto his elbows and leaned over Dean, kissing him softly. “Good thing I’ve found him.”

Just then the faint ding of the oven sounded and Dean suddenly became aware of the tantalizing aroma of Italian spices. Neville’s stomach let out a borborygmus. Dean grinned and then pulled himself over to the edge of the bed. “Come on. Lasagna’s ready. Let’s get something in that bottomless pit of yours.”

Neville shuffled off the other side of the bed and had just started gathering his clothes when a surprised, “Whoa” slipped from his lips.

Dean walked over to him and inspected his confused and embarrassed face for a minute. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...um…” Neville shifted on his feet and sheepishly continued, “Your come’s just...started to drip out and, well, it feels really strange.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Neville’s waist, pulling the other man close and ran the fingers of his left hand down Neville’s crease, holding the cheek open with the other hand to give him room. He slid his fingers around the sloppy mess, a possessive surge going through him at the feel of his come dripping out of his boyfriend’s well-fucked hole. “I have a great Charm I can teach you for that,” he offered, but made no move to withdraw his fingers from his boyfriend’s arse, instead dipping them inside and stretching the tight muscle out once more.

Neville wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and whispered in his ear, “Are you having fun back there?”

“You have no idea,” he whispered back, sucking on Neville’s neck, pleased when the other man conveniently tipped his head and provided him with better access.

“I’ll tell you what. Show me that nifty Charm of yours, let’s go eat some of that yummy lasagna you made before it burns to a crisp, and then we can spend the rest of the night making me all filthy again. How does that sound?”

It sounded like a fantastic idea to Dean.


End file.
